Plot It Yourself

“I suppose he could.” Imhof leaned forward. “Look, Goodwin. I got you here immediately. This is hot. Nero Wolfe is supposed to be the best there is, or you and he together are. We want you to get this sonofabitch, and get him quick. Miss Wynn wants you to, and so do I.”

“Him or her.”

“Okay. But quick. By God!” He hit the desk with his fist. “Planting it here in this office! What are you going to do? What do you want me to do?”

I crossed my legs. “It’s a little complicated. Mr Wolfe already has a client, the Joint Committee on Plagiarism, of which you and Miss Wynn are members. There could be a conflict of interest. For instance, considering this case alone, independently, possibly the best course would be to forget that this thing was found. Burn it or let me stash it. But the committee wouldn’t like that because it may be helpful in stopping this plagiarism racket for good, which is what they want. How many people know this thing has been found?”

“Three. Miss Wynn, Miss Frey, and I. And you. Four.”

“How long has Miss Frey been with you?”

“About a year.”

“Then you don’t know her very well.”

“I know her well enough. She was recommended by my former secretary when she left to get married.”

I looked at Judith Frey and back at Imhof. “There are two obvious questions about her. One, did she put that thing in the folder herself? Two, granting that she didn’t, could she be trusted to forget that she found it if you asked her to? If not, it would be very risky-”

“I didn’t, Mr Goodwin.” Miss Frey had a clear, strong voice. “I can see why you ask that, but I didn’t. And if my employer asked me to do anything I couldn’t be trusted to do, I would quit.”

“Good for you.” I returned to Imhof. “But actually I’m just talking. Even if you decide you can trust Miss Frey to keep her mouth shut and burn that thing, what about me? I have seen it. I will of course report to Mr Wolfe, and he will act in the interest of his client, the committee, and you may find-”

“We’re not going to burn it,” Amy Wynn blurted. Her nose was twitching. Her eyes were red. Her hands, in her lap, were fists. She went on, “I never saw that thing before, and nobody can prove I did! I hate this! I hate it!”

I moved to her. “Naturally you do, Miss Wynn. And after all, you’re the one that will get soaked if Alice Porter gets away with it. Would you like to know what I would advise you to do?”

“I certainly would.”